H. Herzfeld Tie Envelopes

I had never seen a tie envelope before H. Herzfeld.  The brand on the slick cardboard never matched the tie I bought.  Still, Herzfeld made an effort -- Even for the lowly tie -- The most affordable purchase in the store next to socks.  Why I kept these envelopes... I'll never know.  My sub-conscious must've reckoned...I'd  never see one again.

A Femme Era: October 1986

Freddie was my roommate at the Aetna Casualty claims school in Hartford.  He was black but sounded white.  Like he was from Texas -  which he was.  He called me "buddy" and "pardnuh." Talked about golf and bass fishing nonstop.   We were in a recently constructed dorm called Aetna University which sat directly across the ersatz 18th century corporate headquarters. 

Every Friday at 4:30 PM, we stood at our window and watched the female employees flood out the front doors of what looked like a giant Ethan Allen.  Oddly enough, there was amazing diversity for an insurance company in Hartford.  And there were beautiful women...which is why we were standing there in the first place.

I leaned towards the women I thought were "put together."  Freddie liked the sluts.  I'm not sure if that's a Texas thing as much as a golf and bass fishing thing. Either way, Freddie's aesthetic didn't extend much beyond big tits and a high tide butt.  It didn't take long for each of us to understand the other's taste and point out what we thought the other might appreciate.

ME

(pointing)

There ya go, Freddie. Massive hooters in a maroon pant suit at three o'clock.

FREDDIE

Little rough even for me, buddy.   Cheap dye job and nail extensions.

ME

You didn't know what nail extensions were until I told you.

FREDDIE

When's your girl get here?  Eleven o'clock -- Coming down the sidewalk.

ME

Too much makeup. Around six I think.

FREDDIE

Mystic should make for a  nice weekend. Ever been?  How about that senorita crossing the street?

ME

 Face is too squished in. Never been.  How 'bout, Jackie?

FREDDIE

You mean in our class?

ME

Yeah, she's in Tulsa. I bet she fishes.

FREDDIE

She bites her nails.  Can't stand that. Here ya go.. parking lot.  Green top...

ME

There's worse things than biting nails, Freddie. What green top?

FREDDIE

It's like a green jacket. She's got a scarf on.

ME

The blonde in the paisley skirt?

FREDDIE

That's the one, pardnuh.

ME

Cute walk.  She looks like...

FREDDIE

Doris Day.

ME

I was gonna say my girlfriend. 

FREDDIE

That's right up your wheelhouse. Go on down and say, hey.

ME

Freddie...

FREDDIE

Yeah?

ME 

That is my girlfriend.

FREDDIE

No shit.

ME

Yep.

FREDDIE

That's like passing some kind'a weird ass test, pardnuh.

Conclusion of Hard-Ons for Hitler: NSFW or Brown Shirts

Rare photo of Sgt Nick (standing, far right) and his Brassball Battalion, somewhere (Top Secret) in North Korea, 1978

Sgt Nick Penis & the Brassball Battalion

Memory is a funny thing. I was positive Sgt. Nick was shaving in the latrine...



But 34 years is a long time. A 1978 National Lampoon spoof of Sgt. Rock, 'Sgt. Nick Penis', was a gargantuan hit in my unit at Ft. Bragg. It would be quoted frequently until my ETS in 1980.


There was an artist in the barracks and he tried to do a poster of the panel above. It came off badly.


I was positive this reference to size was done in the first panel...which I thought was in the latrine, where Nick is shaving with a bayonet... still attached to his M-1.



Memory is a funny thing, but it's hard to forget, "They're good boys, but they still measure in inches."

The hard hitting ,"Hard-Ons for Hitler" concludes tomorrow.

Contradian London: Shoe Porn & Touching Myself

Ten years ago, John Carnera of George Cleverley gave me a tour and an hour of his shop's time knowing full well I couldn't afford his shoes. It was obvious John was proud of his shop, it's history and that they were still making a shoe in London and not India like so many in Northampt... Never mind. Lets keep it positive today.

I have a pair of Cleverely designed side gusseted shoes from Poulsen and Skone. Hands down the most comfortable and attractive shoes I've ever owned save those Monk Chukkas by French Shriner in 9th grade. For me, the Cleverley last is far more attractive than the stubby John Lobb and lighter as well.

John shows me a book of GC archival images. I suggest they publish something for poor guys. Like me, in love with the company but too poor to foot the tab. I call it shoe porn. John, having never heard the expression before, laughs and shakes his head. He hands me this catalog (click images to enlarge), "Well, here's some shoe porn for you." I thank John and ask if he has a loo. He tells me it's not for the public. I tell John what I have to do isn't public either.

I love myself
I want you to love me
When I'm feelin' down
I want you above me
I search myself
I want you to find me
I forget myself
I want you to remind me

I don't want anybody else
When I think about you
I touch myself
I don't want anybody else
Oh no, oh no, oh no

You're the one who makes me come running
You're the sun who makes me shine
When you're around I'm always laughing
I want to make you mine
I close my eyes
And see you before me
Think I would die
If you were to ignore me
A fool could see
Just how much I adore you
I get down on my knees
I'd do anything for you

I don't want anybody else
When I think about you
I touch myself
I don't want anybody else
Oh no, oh no, oh no

I love myself
I want you to love me
When I'm feelin' down
I want you above me
I search myself
I want you to find me
I forget myself
I want you to remind me

I don't want anybody else
When I think about you
I touch myself
I don't want anybody else
Oh no, oh no, oh no

I want you
I don't want anybody else
And when I think about you
I touch myself
Ooh, oooh, oo-oooh, aaaaaah

I don't want anybody else
When I think about you
I touch myself
I don't want anybody else
When I think about you I touch myself
I touch myself, I touch myself, I touch myself,
I touch myself, I touch myself, I touch myself,
I touch myself, I honestly do, I touch myself...
Christina Amphlett & Divinyls (1991)

Can I get myself in trouble if I touch myself without protection?

'Churchill Style' by Barry Singer

Churchill at Sandhurst, 1883


1901 tailor bill with unpaid purchases dating back to 1985


September 12, 1908: Churchill on wedding day with best man, Lord Hugh Cecil. From, Tailor & Cutter Magazine: "Neither fish, flesh, nor fowl. One of the great failures as a wedding garment we have ever seen, giving the wearer a sort of glorified coachman appearance."

'Churchill Style' is the kind of book that pulls you in with easy to read snippets of booze, cigars, cars, books, food, country homes and writing. As you dip into short attention span blurbs,

Imbibing
Churchill's favorite whiskey was Johnnie Walker Red Label or Black Label, with Hine his favorite cognac. Christopher Soames maintained that Churchill, in fact, cared little about the caliber of cognac he drank. At Chartwell, Soames decanted the excellent vintages his father-in-law was regularly sent by a Cuban admirer named Antonio Giraudier and replaced them with lesser-quality brandy. Churchill never objected.


Cigars
Churchill's expensive taste in cigars had always run to Cubanos, with Romeo y Julieta and Camacho his preferred brands. While in New York, however, he came across a cheaper alternative. "...I bought some cigars at the cigar stall in the Equitable Building which I like very much as they are both mild and cheap. They are in a box marked 'Royal Derby' and are called 'Longfellows.'

Dining
...Churchill's tastes were fairly well established. In soup: only clear broths ("it must be limpid") or petite marmite. In seafood: oysters and caviar, lobster and dressed crab, scampi, Dover sole and trout. Meats: roast beef, shoulder of lamb, and foie gras. Pudding: Yorkshire. Cheese: Gruyere. Dessert: chocolate eclairs.

...you can't help but be drawn to the narrative text and the larger story. Bouts of depression, what Churchill called, 'The Black Dog.' Never ending financial problems, speaking his mind while alienating most everybody, scotch with too much soda... Geez, he reminds me of someone.

Churchill's desktop at Chartwell



Barry Singer crams the book with beautiful ephemera of the early 20th century. Receipts for cigars, champagne, pigs and books are fun to read as well as being art objects of their own. Lavish and ornate letter head stamped and marked and noted. Many pages have evidence of Churchill's one hole paper punch in the upper left hand corner for a brass brad. Odd. I thought only I did that.

I told Mr Singer my only problem with the book was the size. It needed to be big. Coffee table big. But I also spent last weekend with the book in New Hampshire and was grateful for the easy to handle size. Perhaps the publisher can issue a larger volume? Something in a slip case - special and unique like Churchill --and with style.

"Writing a book is an adventure. To begin with it is a toy, and an amusement; then it becomes a mistress, and then it becomes a master, and then a tyrant. The last phase is that just as you are about to be reconciled to your servitude, you kill the monster, and fling him about to the public."

W.S.C. National Book Exhibition, London

Chartwell Booksellers

55 East 52nd Street - In the lobby















Writer, Churchill-expert and owner of Chartwell Booksellers (see above), Barry Singer has a new book out. 'Churchill Style' is a primer of Churchill's food, wine, cigars, women, books and good country houses. Churchill is what John Fairchild would call, "A Civilized Man." I admit to never reading Churchill but I have read a couple biographies.

Somewhere in those books... or was it a London pub? -- I heard my favorite Churchill quote: "The definition of a Greek -- is a Turk -- trying to be an Italian." Singer made my day, hell, he made my year, by confirming that attribution. But - he saddles the famous Lady Astor/ Churchill rebuff, "I may be drunk, madam, but in the morning I'll be sober and you'll still be ugly" to Sir Frederick (F.E.) Smith, a close friend of Churchill but not of his wife, Clementine, "who believed him to be a bad influence on her husband as a drinker and as a gambler. He was, however, in every sense, Winston's equal."

In appropriating a style - you could do a helluva lot worse - Joe Stalin and Mao Tse Tung come to mind. Those Commie world visions have clearly soared off course as their descendants grab capitalism like a gibbet around a neck while making JP Morgan look like a girl scout selling do-si-dos outside a grocery store.

But Churchill is still English and the English are still Churchill. Thank God.

I'll review the book tomorrow. It's perfect for Father's Day. Even if Dad has to buy it for himself. Beats the crap out of a tie -- Unless it's a navy polka dot bow tie from Turnbull & Asser. Bloody hard to go wrong with that pairing.